Wood and Weasley
by HP-Forever-XX
Summary: Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley, roommates for seven years, are as different as can be. Or are they?


**Wood and Weasley**

"Oliver Wood."

"Percy Weasley."

The two boys extended their hands, oddly formal, and shook.

The elder of the two, hair of a mousy brown colour, was rather short and scrawny. His dark eyes bore a hint of trepidation, and his expression was hard and confident. He forced an awkward sort of smile.

The younger of the two, hair of a vivacious orange colour, was taller and ganglier. His light eyes bore a hint of curiosity, and his expression was that of superiority and assuredness. He returned the smile, trying to appear as approachable as possible.

They dropped hands from their introductory handshake and observed the other with interest.

"So, I guess we're going to be roommates for the next seven years," the Scottish one said.

"Certainly looks likes it," the English one agreed.

Percy Weasley straightened his glasses as Oliver Wood folded his arms. Neither were particularly comfortable in social situations and, as of yet, they were the only Gryffindor first-years to have arrived in their dorm room.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as the two young boys observed the other, trying to determine what kind of personality they possessed.

"I'll take this bed," Oliver Wood declared, gesturing to one of the five four-posters in the room.

Percy Weasley frowned. "But—"

"It's closest to the window. I like to have good ventilation when I'm sleeping."

"But that one's furthest from the door," Percy pointed out sulkily.

Oliver fixed him with a questioning look.

"So, it will be most soundproof against the noise coming from the common room. I like complete silence whilst I sleep," Percy explained bitterly.

Oliver's expression remained unsympathetic. "I guess you'll have to compromise then, because I've already requested that bed."

"You didn't _request_ it, you merely claimed it."

"So?" Oliver shrugged. "If you really wanted it then you should have claimed it before I did."

Percy's face had gone so red that it made his hair look dull in comparison. His orange freckles had been flooded in a sea of anger. "That's not fair," he said through gritted teeth.

Oliver shrugged and went to pick up his trunk in order to heave it over to the claimed bed. But Percy Weasley was quicker.

With his stick-like arms, he put all of his energy into flinging his own trunk onto the bed by the window, and then sat atop the covers victoriously, folding his arms and looking furious.

Oliver scowled, barely having reached down to retrieve his trunk. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Claiming this bed," Percy replied frostily.

"But—"

"If you want ventilation, maybe you should sleep in the bed by the door."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself, fixed his new roommate with a complacent grin, and dragged his trunk over to the bed by the door. He settled himself down on the covers, stretching out fully, arms behind his head, looking as calm and casual as ever.

Percy Weasley regarded him with suspicion.

"Oh," Oliver piped up after a while, a wicked grin on his face. "About you needing total silence when you sleep? You should probably know—I snore."

Percy's face fell.

"Like a warthog."

* * *

"Wood."

" _Weasley_."

"Did you move my timetable?" Percy demanded.

"Did you move my broomstick?" Oliver countered calmly.

The redhead screwed his face up in anger. "This is _not_ funny, Oliver—I have a hugely important Potions essay due next week and I don't know when!"

"You should have memorised your timetable," Oliver said with a shrug. "But anyway, I haven't seen it…"

"I left it on my bedside table," Percy growled. "The same place I _always_ leave it."

"Well, it should be there then, shouldn't it?"

"Well, it _isn't."_

"And what does this timetable look like, exactly?"

Percy forced himself not to explode and speak in a calm voice. For _four_ years he'd had to put up with this now—four whole years!

"It's a standard-sized piece of parchment with the Hogwarts crest at the top. You _know_ what it looks like."

"Standard-sized piece of parchment with the Hogwarts crest at the top?" Oliver repeated innocently. "Oh, you mean like my Quidditch training schedule?" He fixed the younger boy with a steely, accusatory glare.

Percy looked taken aback. "What are you—"

"You moved my training schedule," Oliver accused, " _and_ my broomstick!"

"Your stupid broomstick was in _my_ part of the room. And I never even touched your training schedule."

A storm was raging in young Oliver Wood's eyes. "Yeah?" he said fiercely. "Well, in that case, I didn't touch your timetable."

Percy's anger matched Oliver's. "Then _why_ isn't it on my bedside table where I left it?"

"Oh, I don't know," Oliver replied sarcastically. "Maybe it wasn't on your bedside table. Maybe the breeze from the open window had blown it into _my_ part of the room, which then entitled me to throw it away."

"You _didn't!"_ Percy gasped.

Olive gave him a smug grin, turned his back on a gobsmacked Percy, and left the room.

* * *

" _Wood."_

"Weasley?"

"Will you _please_ turn that light off? It's nearly midnight," Percy hissed. "We have a test tomorrow!"

"I've not finished reading my Quidditch article, though. Only a couple of pages left…"

Oliver flicked over the next page of the Quidditch magazine he was reading, purposefully making sure it made a rustling noise.

"You _know_ I can't sleep with even the slightest bit of light in the room."

"Close your eyes then."

"I'm a prefect, Oliver, I have a reputation to uphold. I _have_ to do well on this test."

"And I'm Quidditch Captain," Oliver retaliated calmly. "It's my duty to my team to have the most in-depth knowledge of all things Quidditch-related."

"You're reading an article on the new Holyhead Harpies uniform!" Percy protested in a strangled whisper, trying not to disturb their slumbering roommates.

Oliver turned the page again, even louder than before. "I'm a huge admirer of Gwenog Jones."

"I don't care! This is _not_ important—you're only doing this to annoy me," Percy accused. "Ever since I became a prefect and you didn't—"

Oliver slammed the magazine down onto his bed in abrupt fury. _"What?"_ he demanded, glaring at Percy.

"I _said_ —"

"I _know_ what you said, and it's absolute rubbish! I couldn't care less about not being a prefect. I'm the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, or had you forgotten?"

"You never _let_ me forget," Percy hissed. "But that's my point—you're just jealous that _I've_ been given a position of real authority, whilst you're merely—"

"Real authority? _Real authority?"_

"And honour," Percy said smugly.

"Honour? You don't think it's an _honour_ to be Quidditch Captain?"

"Absolutely not."

"Do you have any kind of idea the kind of pressure and responsibility I have in being Quidditch Captain? The amount of stress I'm under? This is a hugely important role to have, and yes, it _is_ an honour."

Although Oliver couldn't see, in the poorly lit room, Percy rolled his eyes. "If it helps you sleep at night."

Oliver opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself, fixed his roommate of five years with a complacent grin, and placed the magazine on his bedside table. He settled himself down beneath the covers, stretching out fully, with his arms behind his head, looking as calm and casual as ever.

"You wanna know what helps me sleep at night?"

Percy Weasley regarded him with suspicion.

Oliver made the candle on his bedside table flicker even brighter than before. He rolled over, his back to Percy, settling himself down for the night.

"Sleeping with a constant source of light through the entire night."

* * *

"Oliver Wood!"

"Percy Weasley?"

Percy had strode into their dorm room, an enraged expression on his face. Oliver looked up from where he was sat on his bed, scribbling away at his Quidditch plan, humouring his sixteen-year-old roommate.

"You _kissed_ Penelope?" Percy asked. The fury had gone from his voice, only to be replaced with hurt, breathy accusation.

The laughter was gone from Oliver's eyes as he realised Percy was deadly serious about the impending argument. "Who?"

"Penelope Clearwater—my ex-girlfriend!"

Oliver placed the Quidditch plan to one side. "When?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"At some party, _apparently._ My sister told me she saw you!"

"Oh." Oliver shrugged, relaxing. "We were celebrating our Quidditch win. I don't know—everything was getting a bit wild—everybody was going a bit crazy. I _may_ have ended up kissing some girl, but I swear it wasn't Penelope. She was Ravenclaw, for a start."

"Penelope _is_ a Ravenclaw." The hurt had gone; Percy was furious again.

Oliver's face fell. " _Ah."_

The redhead turned away, shaking his head in disbelief.

Oliver leapt to his feet to confront him. "Percy, look, I honestly didn't realise. It was an honest mistake, I swear. If I'd known it was Penelope then I wouldn't have—wait?" He stopped abruptly, suddenly confused. "Why do you even care if I kissed her?"

Percy's jaw hung down in disbelief. "Seriously?" he demanded. "She's my ex-girlfriend, Oliver!"

"Exactly—it's not like you're still together. So what if I kissed her?"

"So _what?"_ he repeated. "How would you like it if I went and kissed Katie Bell?"

Oliver struggled to contain his blush, trying to pass it off casually. "Why, err, why would I care if you kissed Katie Bell?" he asked, none too convincingly. "She's not my ex-girlfriend. She's… she's not anything to me."

Percy smirked triumphantly. "You've been obsessed with her for years," he accused.

"I haven't!" Oliver protested, the tips of his ears having turned red now as well. "I admire Katie, I'll admit it. She's an excellent Chaser—and, err, you know, a really great girl—but I don't _fancy_ her. I'm not _obsessed_ with her."

"Oh, really? So you wouldn't care, in the slightest, if I kissed her?"

"Nope."

Percy raised his eyebrows at him. Oliver turned away, intent on busying himself with his Quidditch plan again.

Percy made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Oliver demanded worriedly.

"To my prefect meeting..."

"Oh."

"I'm not _actually_ going to kiss Katie Bell."

"Okay. Good."

"Good?"

Oliver glared at him. "I didn't mean 'good' as in, it's 'good' that you're not going to kiss her, I just meant—"

"I don't care, Oliver," Percy interrupted, lingering in the doorway. He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. As a last thought, he threw his head over his shoulder and yelled, "Don't you _dare_ kiss Penelope again."

* * *

"Oliver Wood."

"Percy Weasley."

The two boys extended their hands, smiling shyly, and shook.

The elder of the two, hair of a mousy brown colour, was rather well-built and somewhat burly. His dark eyes bore a hint of fondness, and his expression was soft and nostalgic. He melted into a reminiscent sort of smile.

The younger of the two, hair of a vivacious orange colour, was only slightly taller, though still ganglier. His light eyes bore a hint of sadness, and his expression was that of affection and pride. He returned the smile warmly

They dropped hands from their farewell handshake and observed the other with interest.

"So, I guess that's our seven years done," the Scottish one said.

"Certainly looks likes it," the English one agreed.

Percy Weasley straightened his glasses, as Oliver Wood folded his arms. Neither was particularly comfortable in social situations, and they were the sole Gryffindor seventh-years to remain in their dorm room.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as the two young boys observed the other, trying to determine how to proceed. They'd been roommates for seven years, and theirs had been a dynamic relationship, to say the least.

But amongst it all, there had been a deeply strong bond—a complementing of personalities—both driven, and hard-working, and proud. And each boy suddenly found the prospect of separation from the other almost _disheartening_.

Their respective Head Boy and Quidditch Captain badges were pinned proudly to their robes, catching the sunlight that shone down through the window of the Gryffindor Tower.

It was difficult to say who initiated it, if either of them, but the two boys suddenly found themselves embracing each other tightly in a warm bear hug the likes of neither of them had ever shared.

"Oliver," Percy Weasley said fondly, perhaps for the first time in his whole life.

Oliver clung to him, appreciating greatly, both the warmth of his embrace and the warmth in his voice. He couldn't help but smile.

"Percy."

* * *

 **Originally written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Season 3—Finals Round 1**

 **Team:** Holyhead Harpies  
 **Position:** Captain  
 **Task:** Pair a character with Oliver Wood (Percy Weasley, platonically)


End file.
